


A Gift of Thistle

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Series: A Place for Us: Victor and Ethan [3]
Category: Frankethan, Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Asking forgiveness, Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gothic, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I love these bois so much, Ink, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Missing someone, One True Pairing, Pining, Resolution, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Victor is gone for Ethan, Victor misses Ethan so much, Victorian, victorian gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: I used to think if men couldn’t find the beauty in darkness, how could they truly appreciate the resplendence of light?Chiaroscuro.Which are we for each other, dearest Ethan? Or are we both?_Victor loves Ethan so.
Relationships: Ethan Chandler & Victor Frankenstein, Ethan Chandler/Victor Frankenstein
Series: A Place for Us: Victor and Ethan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403491
Comments: 26
Kudos: 80





	A Gift of Thistle

_My Dearest Ethan,_

_Forgive me, but I cannot… I can no longer draw breath without your name teasing my lips._  
_I can no longer slumber without my dreams conjuring your visage._  
  
_My dearest Ethan_  
_As my heart fell for thee, so did my quill to paper_  
_This is the story of my reincarnation._  
  
_Some find beauty in roses_  
_Others in letters of amorous sentiment_  
_I think that’s rather repulsive, my dearest._

_Love is repulsive_  
_As am I._  
_And yet through all my abominable imperfection… you love me._

_Me. A treacherous, a strange_  
_a prodigy or a sicko_  
_if anything, these are just labels formulated by_ _weak minds that cannot fathom that death is as beautiful as life and that its horrors can be magnificent._

_I used to think if men couldn’t find the beauty in darkness, how could they truly appreciate the resplendence of light?_  
_Chiaroscuro._  
_Which are we for each other, dearest Ethan? Or are we both?_

_Love is not precious nor a treasure_  
_It is an evil sickness of the mind._  
_Or so I thought. Until I met you._

_Repulsive, strange poison it had always been, this thing called love._  
_Though not as revolting or pernicious as me._  
_And yet I longed for it. Oh did I burn for it!_  
_Sought it in poetry and prose and in every nimble gesture of my scalpel-wielding hand._

_Is it not strange how you see in someone that which doesn’t befit your idea of perfection- and grow to covet them all the same?_  
  
_Love is not logical, it never has possessed that quality._  
_There is no logic to a gunslinger for hire- an enchanting man who crossed violent oceans to escape his demons- becoming enamoured with a monster like myself._  
_And yet through all my abominable imperfection..._  
_You do._  
_You love me._

_You taught me to defend myself with both cutting tongue and pistol. You taught me that in harboring a tolerance to my eccentricities I might, in kind, be more accepting of them as well._  
_That these sweet aberrations as I call them may even appreciate me._  
  
_I ran out of ink again, my love._  
_My hands are stained with it and under this low light of one dying candle it might as well be blood._  
_Their state makes me shiver._

_But returning to us, my dearest Ethan._

_I don’t think love can be a person embodied._  
_And if love is a disturbance of the brain, then I am the most disturbed of all men in London._

_Oh, how gracious would it be if we were all perfect puzzles or machines?_  
_If the electrical waves were focused solely on invention instead of playing this hurtful game of cat and mouse and... trap._  
  
_I’ve read what I’ve scrawled thus far, Ethan, and I fear I may have lost the plot. Is this a bad idea, an undertaking best left to Keats and Wordsworth?_  
_Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I trying to impress you with my jagged thoughts when you already hold claim to my rather stunted heart?_

_I look around and there is something missing._  
_I want for the bookshelf and the tomes it contains. I scarcely recall the scent of dry blood on my metallic tools. This place is not mine. It is not ours._  
_I crave sharing with you what we yet don't possess- isn't that absurd?_

_What I miss most is... you. I need to finish this letter to you, my beautiful wolf, or my angst will end me._  
_Heart grows fonder, they say, yet so does the distance. It brings to me the ghost touch of our last kiss. Its urgency still makes me tremble and throbs upon my lips._

_I hate to admit it, but I need this ink my love. I need these words – this sophomoric attempt at a love letter bleeding from my hand onto parchment._  
_From my mind, from my heart, from the deepest shadowed desire of the twisted person I am – I ache for you._  
  
_Regret, after love, is the worst feeling, is it not?_  
_This is my feeble attempt, then._  
_Lest I burst into desperation_  
_Lest I burst into flames and perish..._  
_My dearest one, please forgive my melancholy. I should have revealed it to you then, I should have said it back when you opened yourself to me, your hungry gaze boring into mine._  
_I had surmised you knew- how mistaken was I?_

_I love you, Ethan Chandler. Not even the most furious of tempests could keep me from you- so please... find your way back into my arms at your earliest opportunity._  
_Let me show just how much I yearn for you.  
Be well - and godspeed your return. _

_Eternally yours,_  
_Victor_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this little one shot. Kudos and comments are encouraged my fellow Pennies.


End file.
